


Eight Winters Gone

by lafiametta



Category: Outsiders (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, F/M, Family-Related Angst, Romance, Set Eight Years in the Future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6710026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafiametta/pseuds/lafiametta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been eight years since the battle for Shay Mountain. It's been eight years since she left him. And then one day, out of nowhere, she returns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The origin of this story is a ficlet prompt that I was sent on Tumblr, where the sender asked for a Sasil story that was set 5-10 years after the Season 1 finale. So I wrote it up and it ended up being very long (clearly a sign I had a lot to talk about!) and I realized that I really loved this AU with Hasil and Sally Ann and what happened in the years they've been apart. Readers of the ficlets (A Beautiful Thing) will recognize Chapter 1 (there, it's Chapter 18: "Brought Back to Life"), but the chapters that follow are entirely original to this story. Enjoy!

Walking down the hallway of the lawyer’s office, Hasil glanced up at the harsh florescent lighting that blanketed the walls and carpet with its lifeless, uniform glare. He blinked rapidly and had to look away. So many winters he had been coming here and he still could never quite get used to it.

His task for the rest of the day was relatively simple: at the home supply store, he was supposed to pick up an assortment of items – some metal tools and seed packets, a new pair of glasses for Krake, a replacement chain for the motorized saw they had acquired two winters ago – and pay for it all with the blank check now folded in half inside his pocket. These days, there was no more stealing when they went on runs, no more showing up and scaring everyone half to death. It was mostly just Hasil, driving down the mountain in the truck every few weeks or so, a more familiar presence to the town’s inhabitants, even if he still remained an object of some curiosity.

Things had changed for the clan in the eight winters since that sweltering day when Big Foster died and the invaders made their way onto their land. The mountain, as always, had protected her children, sending the storm with lightning and thunder, the invaders scattering in its wake. After that, everyone down there – the police, the coal company – seemed to understand that there was no real question about getting the clans to move off the mountain, and besides, there were few people willing to go up there to work, not when it involved the risk of deadly storms or unexplained cave-ins. So the company struck a deal with the clans, and promised to leave them alone as they dug a handful of mines on a small, uninhabited part of the mountain. After several days of bargaining, they also agreed to pay for accompanying water and timber rights, all that money going into a trust that the clans could access, with Hasil and G’win as its executors.

G’win had become a strong Bren’in, ruling judiciously over all of them. No one had challenged her leadership, not even Little Foster, whom she had finally married after a tumultuous but rewarding courtship, and now they had a fine four winters-old son, a red-headed terror named Foster Farrell the Eighth, the pride and joy of his father’s heart. As for Asa, no one had seen or heard from him after the day he killed Big Foster; all they found was the door to the box wide open, the keys still sitting in the lock, the man himself up and gone like the powerful and brief summer storm he had always been.

Not as much had changed in Hasil’s life. He still lived in his cabin, sitting on his porch and carving animals on warm summer nights, helping Krake man the still with the knowledge that one day it would be his to operate alone. He had finally become a reader, mostly so he could decipher the documents presented to him at the lawyer’s office, but every so often on one of the runs he purchased a book along with all the other supplies. At first, he had made slow progress in his abilities, but soon enough he found himself tearing through book after book, always eager to know more. Right now, he was in the middle of a story about a boy named Tom Sawyer, and he was looking forward to later tonight, when he could sit with his book in the soft lantern light and lose himself in the escapades of Tom and his friends.

Hasil had likewise settled into his role as unofficial liaison between the mountain and the town; he liked coming down every so often, even though he mostly kept to himself. Being down here, it reminded him of all the things that were possible in the world and, almost always, it reminded him of her. She, too, had left on that summer day, and even though he had searched for her again and again, all that fall and into the winter, he had never seen her again. She was a steadfast figure in his dreams, though, her smile always sweet and bright as the mid-day sunshine, and then he would wake, a sense of loss and emptiness coiling like a dull ache through his chest.

He pushed the glass door open – it gave easily against his hand – and walked outside onto the sidewalk, the skies overcast and a faint autumn chill lingering in the air. The truck was parked right out front and as he walked towards it, he started digging around in his pocket for the keys. It was only once he reached the door, the key held firmly in his outstretched hand, that he looked back along the sidewalk, catching a glimpse of something in his peripheral view. There was a bench about twenty feet away, and sitting on it was a woman. But it wasn’t just any woman. It was her.

At first, Hasil didn’t understand what he was seeing. Perhaps he was dreaming while he was awake, experiencing some small vision, the kind he knew was granted to members of his clan from time to time. Perhaps he had just gone crazy. Because she looked exactly the same, just like the girl he had met in the store, the girl with warm brown skin and two beautiful names whose hair and eyes and smile had radiated with burnished light, the girl who he had lost his heart and his soul to so many summers ago.

For one moment, he let himself entertain the thought that she was real, that she had finally come back to him after all this time.

And then she stood up, looking right at him in that cautious, expectant way she always had. The strangest thing, though, was that she wasn’t alone. Sitting behind her on the bench was a small girl, maybe six or so winters old by Hasil’s estimation, a halo of chestnut-colored curls atop her head. Her skin was a golden, tawny brown, but there was no mistaking that heart-shaped face, the wide, dark eyes that made you want to drown within their depths. The girl was Sally Ann’s, there was no question.

All Hasil could do was stare as she wrapped the girl’s hand in her own and they began to walk towards him. Even if he had wanted to, he wasn’t even sure he could speak, not with his heart lodged in his throat and the beat of it thrumming violently in his veins. There were too many thoughts, too many questions spinning around his head, all wrapped up in hope and fear and wonder and disbelief, and he could feel his knees buckling just a bit. It was like seeing a ghost, someone brought back to life.  

The two of them stepped around the front of the truck, coming to a halt a few feet away from him. The girl leaned towards Sally Ann, eyeing Hasil warily as she pressed her face half-way against her mother’s waist.

“Hey,” Sally Ann said. Her eyes were warm and bashful, a tiny smile on her lips, as if she was trying somehow to make light of her single-word greeting.

“Hi,” he managed to croak out. He could feel the rough throb of the truck keys in his palm; he hadn’t even realized how tightly he had been clutching them.

“It’s been a long time,” she said, the smile growing a little wider.

“Mmmm-hmmm.” At this point, he didn’t even think he was capable of words.

“Hasil, I…” She made a little soundless laugh, glancing quickly down at the ground and then back up at him. It took his breath away to see how beautiful she looked. “It’s good to see you. But, um… I wanted you to meet someone.” She gazed down at the girl, pressing her forward a little with her hip. “This is Lena. My daughter.”

Hasil looked down at the girl, seeing again all the clear resemblances to her mother. There were differences, though: her forehead was a little broader, with strong, serious brows arching across it, her nose just a touch more rounded at the end. On some level, it seemed beyond his comprehension that Sally Ann had a child; looking at the two of them, though, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey, there…” he said to the girl, although it didn’t seem to do much to quell her shyness. He tilted his head and gave her a small grin. “Th’ pleasure’s mine, Miss Lena. My name’s Hasil. I’m…” – he glanced up at Sally Ann, their eyes catching for one brief moment – “…well, I’m a ol’ friend a’ yer ma’s.”

The girl didn’t smile or say anything, but her gaze grew a little softer, and his heart warmed as he watched her stand a little straighter, pulling away from her mother just a bit.

“Will you take a walk with us?” Sally Ann asked. “I remember there bein’ a park with a playground a few blocks from here. Unless you got somewhere else to be…” she added, the smile fading slightly from her face. 

“Nah, I ain’t got nowhere else ta be,” he said, shaking his head, and it was true. At this point, there was nothing in the wide world that could have dragged him from her side. 

The three of them walked in silence up to the park, but even so there was a hum of something in the air, an anticipatory tension that crackled and sparked each time his arm brushed against hers, each time their gazes momentarily caught. The girl was oblivious, tugging and pulling on her mother’s hand, pointing at all the new things that had temporarily captured her attention. And once they reached their destination, her two companions were all but forgotten as she scampered off to play with a few other children atop a large, brightly-colored metal structure in the middle of the grass.

Hasil and Sally Ann found a bench nearby, close enough so she could keep an eye on her daughter, and he found himself sneaking tiny glances at her as they sat side-by-side. Neither of them said anything at first; for Hasil, at least, the moment was so strange and wonderful and unexpected, and while he had so many questions, it was as if he didn’t even know where to begin.

“I heard you’re still livin’ up on the mountain,” she finally said. 

“Mmmm-hmmm. I com’ down ev’ry so often… for supplies an’ such,” he added. “But wha’ ‘bout you? Where ya livin’ now?”

“We’re in Pittsburgh…. It’s a big city, about a six hour drive from here.”

There were so many things he wanted to know – Why that place? Why did she leave? – but instead, he nodded in the direction of her daughter, all laughs and squeals as she tumbled down the large metal slide.

“Ya got a husband there?” he asked.

“Uh-uh,” she said, her gaze dropping down towards her lap. “I was with a man for a while, when Lena was younger, but he’s gone now.”

Hasil knew he ought to be feeling something – a stab of jealousy, perhaps – but for some reason it wasn’t forthcoming. If she had been happy, at least for some time, then that was all that mattered. If he couldn’t care for her, protect her, provide for her, then at least there had been someone else that could.

“And you?” she asked, and Hasil could have sworn he heard a waver in her voice. “Are you with anyone?”

“Nah,” he replied, glancing over at her, his cheeks rounding slightly as he shook his head. “There weren’ no one else, not for me…”

That wasn’t the whole story, but none of it was fit for her ears. After she had left, Hasil had been beside himself for weeks and weeks upon end, not knowing how to find her, how to bring her back. It had been the night of the first snowfall when he had finally realized that she was gone for good, that he would probably never see her again, and that night he had gotten so drunk on Farrell wine that even now he couldn’t remember half of what he had done. He had woken up with the daylight, two girls – Shay and McGintuk – in bed with him, and he had promptly rolled over and vomited onto the floor. After that, there had been a few other women, mostly when he was in need of physical companionship, but never one he felt much of anything for. Because all ever he saw was her face, her skin under his hands, her lips pressed against his. Some days he had wondered how much longer he could live like this, knowing that his heart no longer remained in his body, that she had taken it with her when she left him. It was on those occasions that he sought refuge in his books, in his carvings, in his long conversations with Krake. But there were always moments that ached something awful, like watching Little Foster run the gauntlet, seeing the love in his eyes for the woman standing in front of him, the woman who would soon bear his child, and the only thing Hasil could think about was how badly he wanted that for himself, and how it would most likely never happen, not in this lifetime at least.

But all that – the sadness and pain, the dark thoughts that haunted him late at night when everyone else had banked their fires – it had vanished, now that she was here, sitting right next to him. For a moment, he wondered whether Sally Ann had harbored similar feelings while they were apart, but he thought the better of asking her. This was not the time for that, he knew. Instead, he glanced back at her daughter, still happily at play.

“She’s beautiful,” he said. 

Sally Ann smiled widely, her cheeks rounding out with pride and pleasure.

“I know,” she replied. “Although her doctor says she’s small for her age. Don’t see why, she eats everythin’ in sight.”

“How ol’ is she?” he asked. He wasn’t quite sure why he asked, but there was something that instinctively told him it was important.   

“She turned seven in May,” she said, turning slightly towards him as she spoke. Her knee momentarily grazed his leg, and rather than pulling it away, she let it linger, allowing the connection between them to remain. “Old enough, though, to start askin’ about her daddy.”

Hasil said nothing, hearing only the pounding rhythm of his own heartbeat. May, he remembered, was in late spring, a full nine months after late summer. And the girl was already seven winters, older than he had originally thought.

“I didn’t just want to tell her about her daddy, and who he was,” she continued. “I got this idea, all stuck in my head, that I would introduce her to him. So here we are.” 

She slowly reached out and placed her hand along his arm. He looked down, his attention captivated by the graceful lines of her fingers, the pale pink nails trimmed so roundly and precisely, the thin golden band she still wore on her first finger. He understood everything she was saying, but still he didn’t. Because such a wonder was impossible; yet here it was, the mystery of his own heart, laid right at his feet, and he had no idea what to think.

“Lena, she’s mine,” she said softly, “but she’s yours, too.”

Hasil glanced up at her, saying the first thing that came into his mind. “How?”

She bit her lips together, eyeing him in gentle exasperation and amusement. “I don’t think I gotta remind you of the ‘how,’ Hasil. I woulda thought you’d remember.”

“Nah, a’ course,” he said quickly, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “I remember… I def’nitely remember,” he added with a smile, feeling heat rushing towards his cheeks. He recalled all the times they had been together, every single instance, all those beautiful days and nights in that deserted house where all they had was each other. They had made a home in that place, at least for a time. But now, it turned out, they had made something else, too. “How come ya didn’ say nothin’?”

“I didn’t know, not for a while,” she said. “And by the time I knew, I was gone, and I didn’t know how to come back, how to tell you.” She ran her hand down his arm, quickly finding his hand and enfolding it into hers. “I’m sorry, Hasil. I just… I didn’t know what to do.”

He nodded, pulling her hand more tightly into his grip. “‘S okay,” he murmured. “Ya’ll are here now. Ya brought my child back ta me.”

Hasil could feel himself seized by a great wave of emotion, the threat of tears welling in his eyes. Because it was true: so much time had passed, so much sorrow and loss, but it was enough to have her here now, enough to know that together they had made this beautiful and miraculous creature, a living piece of himself that he knew, even now, he would die for.

“I thought about comin’ back and tellin’ you a thousand times,” she continued, “but I didn’t. I couldn’t imagine what you would say or how you would feel, after so long. I was scared, I guess…”

He could hear a slight tremor in her voice, but even so she kept talking, the words continuing to flow out of her mouth, as if by using so many of them she could outrun what she felt.

“And then knowin’ she has this other family, who may not even want her because she’s not one of them… it made it so hard to know what to do. So I didn’t do anything. But she deserves to know where she came from. And you deserve to know her…” She paused, but just for a moment, taking a quick breath before she began again. “So one morning I got her dressed and instead of takin’ her to school, we just got in the car and started drivin’. Once we got here, I didn’t know how to find you, but people said you come down every so often…”

“Sally Ann…” he said quietly. 

“But now we’re here,” she continued, shaking her head, “and I don’t even know what I’m doin’. I don’t know what can come of this.” She slowly let out a breath and stared out into the distance, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular.

“Sally Ann, ya came back,” he said as he squeezed her hand. “Tha’s all tha’ matters. An’ tha’ girl – my li’l girl – she’s got a clan now. They already love ‘er. They jus’ don’ know it yet.”

She quickly turned her head back towards him, tiny bright tears gracing the inside corners of her eyes. All he wanted to do was wipe them away, to tell her that everything would be fine now, that he would take care of her and their daughter and she would never have to be afraid of anything ever again. But even as he knew that only a fool would make those kind of promises, it didn’t stop him from wanting it all the same. And it didn’t stop him from raising his left hand – which still bore the proof of his love for her – and softly brushing his thumb against the delicate edges of her eyes.

“They love her?” she asked. 

“Mmmm-hmmm,” he murmured. “She’s one a’ them.”

“Could… could she even go up and meet them?” she asked tremulously. “Don’t they still have guns?”

“Nah, ‘s diff’rent now. ‘S like how I firs’ told ya it was, beautiful an’ calm. There’s a new leader now… no more guns, no more stealin’ from th’ town.”

“That’s too bad,” she said, smiling through her tears. “How are you Farrells gonna meet any women that way?” She laughed a little at her own joke, and then he was laughing too, and in the pleasure of the moment, she leaned towards him, letting herself press up against his side, her head resting against his shoulder. It was so wonderful that he closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the warmth and the scent of her.

“We can wait, though, if ya want,” he said quietly. “I can jus’ come down here for a while, spend time wi’ both a’ ya’ll, get ta know her better. Then, maybe, a li’l later, I can take ya’ll up again ta meet ev’ryone. An’ this time, I got a truck,” he added playfully. “No more walkin’.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said, letting out a soft sigh. “I’ll think about it.” She paused for a moment and began to trace her thumb against the back of his hand. “Y’know, Hasil, I always used to think of you and that mountain… On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I remembered everythin’ you said about the sky and the stars and all the new wonders. The whole time I was gone, I never saw anythin’ like that.”

Hasil smiled and leaned down so he could gently press his lips against her forehead. Hearing a sudden squeal, he looked across the grass, catching a glimpse of his daughter arcing higher and higher on a swing, the curls of her hair flying every which way, her sweet face alight with joy and happiness.

“Aw, Sally Ann, there’s wonders ev’rywhere,” he said. “Ya jus’ got ta know how ta look for ‘em.”


	2. Chapter 2

Even with her daughter at her side, talking endlessly in the way that children do, she could still feel the ghost of his touch along the lines of her palm, the lingering sensation of his lips brushing against her brow. So many years, and her body had not forgotten what it was like to be this close to him, her blood quickening with need and memory.

Had she really been so swift to reach for him, her hand so easily enfolding itself into his?

He looked a little older, maybe, the loose boyishness settling itself into something more weathered and solid. His hair was a bit longer, freely falling across his shoulders rather than partially tied back the way it used to be. And in some acknowledgement of the cooler weather, he was wearing an olive-colored shirt with actual sleeves, pushed back to the elbow, displaying a new pair of spindly tattoos along his forearms. But there was no mistake: she would know him anywhere. If she were blindfolded, in a darkened room, she would know him.

Seeing him again, it was like coming back to a home you had only seen in dreams. A part of you ached for it to be real – if only so you could stay there, safe and protected, forever – even as you held back, for fear that it would vanish just as quickly as it had appeared.

They made their way back to his truck, a measured quiet falling over the two of them, as if they meant to balance the outpouring of sentiment they had shared at the park, the rawness now tempered with caution and hesitancy. Lena was still a boundless source of energy, however, even after all her time on the jungle gym, and Sally Ann struggled to keep her child’s hand firmly grasped within her own. But there was also the compulsion to turn her gaze up towards him, one nearly impossible to ignore, and through those stolen glimpses, she watched his attention start to focus steadily on their child, his eyes softening with joy and wonderment, the corner of his mouth curling up unconsciously. She was struck by the image she suddenly had of the three of them walking together down the sidewalk, as if they were a real family, and god, it was so beautiful, so tempting. It made her want to cry again, made her want to stop and pour out eight years of loneliness and fear and love and longing right here onto the concrete. But instead, she gripped Lena’s hand a little tighter, and turned her unfocused gaze towards a spot twenty yards up ahead. 

What would happen at this point was unclear to her, his offer to come down and spend time with them and perhaps even take them up the mountain notwithstanding. But soon enough, he would have to leave them and go home, and she realized she wasn’t ready to say goodbye quite yet. There was also a part of her that wondered what he actually had been planning for the rest of his day, before she had appeared with no warning to give him the surprise to end all surprises. 

“Tell me the truth… you had somewhere else to be, didn’t you?” she asked as they approached the truck, still parked diagonally in front of the small office building.

He looked away and grinned in that way she remembered, that way she had fallen in love with, at turns bashful and mischievous, innocent and inviting.

“S’pposed ta go pick up som’ things ‘fore I head back,” he said, shrugging his shoulder.

“Where?” 

“Th’ home supply store,” he answered. “Th’ one down ‘round by th’ bridge.”

“Wait, where I used to work?” she asked. She couldn’t believe it; of all the places he had been headed, it had to be  _that_ store, the one where they had first met, where he had waited for her after her shift, for god knows how long, all in the hope of talking to her again. 

He nodded, and then his face lit up again, as if an idea had just flashed into his mind.

“Y’all wan’ ta come wit’ me? Unless ya got som’where else ta be…” he added, raising his eyebrows as he repeated her earlier phrasing. 

“Sure,” she said, an unbidden smile finding its way onto her lips. It was becoming too much again, looking at him like this, everything about him pulling her back to a different time, when they were younger and things had seemed so much simpler. She glanced down at Lena, her fingers lightly running over the top of her daughter’s curls. “Be good to see what it looks like after all this time.” 

And, honestly, at this moment, she had nowhere else to be, no one else she’d rather be with.

With the flash of a smile, Hasil jogged ahead of her so he could throw open the passenger door, watching as Lena scrambled up onto the bench seat and Sally Ann quickly followed. He gently swung the door closed, eight fingers curling over the top of the window frame.

It was the middle of the day, so the streets were fairly quiet, but Sally Ann found her attention being pulled in so many different directions. There was the view passing by outside the windows: the same houses and storefronts she remembered, some now closed and shuttered, all testifying to the harsh fact that life had never really returned to Blackburg. And of course she would always be aware of her daughter, now buckled in by her side. When they first got in the truck, Sally Ann had wondered how Lena might react to being in this strange vehicle, to the growls of its unmuffled engine, but she seemed completely content, her eyes wide with interest as she took in all the new things going on around her. Finally, there was the man in the truck with them, whose presence she couldn’t have ignored had she even wanted to. At one of the town’s four stoplights, he brought the truck to a halt, his eyes shifting towards her and their gazes momentarily catching, a tiny, silent exchange that still managed to burn tight and hot in the middle of her chest. Her mind was briefly fogged with half-lost memories, more sensation than anything else: the sound of their shared laughter, the wispy scratch of his mustache against her skin, his pale and callused fingers gently circling and then tracing up her thigh. She looked away and unconsciously pressed the side of her hand up against her breastbone, half-expecting to be met with soft licks of flame.

And just like that, they were there, the truck turning into the parking lot, the old familiar building coming sharply into view. Sally Ann was astonished by how little it had changed; they had never bothered to replace the cracked plastic letter in the middle of the store’s name, the lawn furniture still in stacks by the entrance. And even as the three of them made their way inside, it almost felt like she had never left at all, like she should be heading off to the break room to drop off her purse and put on her apron and name tag. She couldn’t imagine anyone would remember her – it had been so long – but still she looked around at the cashiers, wondering if there was she knew. But they were all strangers, not a familiar face in sight. 

They made their way down the aisles, Lena’s small hand curled warm in hers, but as she found that her eyes were continually drawn towards him, so often catching him looking right back at her. 

The strangest part, though, was how normal it all seemed. He was a Farrell, walking around a store with a shopping basket in his hand like any other customer, like who he was didn’t matter at all, and no one was doing a thing. Maybe things  _were_ different, like he had said, maybe the war between mountain and town had ended on that day she left. Maybe there was hope that other things could be different, too.

They were in the gardening aisle, Hasil grabbing a pair of black and orange shears off the rack, when she felt a slight tug on her arm. Sally Ann looked down, seeing her child’s dark eyes staring up at her.

“Mama, I’m tired,” Lena said, the barest hint of a whine in her voice. 

She felt a stab of guilt with the realization that she hadn’t noticed how weary out her daughter had gotten. And they would have to wait, of course, until he was done and he could drive them back to her car. The motel they were staying at was only a ten-minute drive down towards the highway, and in all likelihood Lena would fall asleep on the ride there. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Sally Ann said, tracing her thumb along her daughter’s cheek. “We’ll be done soon. And then we’ll go back to our room and you can lie down.”

There was a soft nod in return, but Sally Ann still wondered how she was going to get a tired child through the rest of this outing. And, deep down, she also knew that she wanted Hasil to have a best possible impression of her, for him to see the delightful and extraordinary girl that she was, and this probably wasn’t going to help matters much. 

“Ya a wee bit tired, Miss Lena?” she heard him say, and then she watched in astonishment as he dropped the basket onto the ground and squatted down, one knee on the linoleum flooring.

Lena’s eyes were wide, but she nodded anyway, her serious gaze fixed on the man kneeling right across from her. 

“If ya like, ya can ride up ‘ere on my back,” he said, jerking his head towards the space right behind him, the trace of a smile on his lips. “Might need som’ help pickin’ out things, too, so ya’d be a’ great assist’nce.”

Lena quickly glanced up at her, as if unsure of how to respond. And even though her heart was full to bursting, Sally Ann held herself back enough to simply nod in permission. 

“Ya know, I once carried yer ma on my back when she was tired,” he added, and even though he was smiling at Lena, his eyes flashed up at Sally Ann, the heat in his gaze somehow tinged with the pale shadow of sadness. 

“You did?” Lena asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Mmmm-hmmm… An’ she seemed ta like it, too,” he said, half-hiding a grin as he offered a small shrug of his shoulders. “So, wha’ d’ya say? Ya comin’ on?”

Lena stood a moment in thought, considering her options, and with a tiny set in her mouth turned towards Hasil. 

“Okay,” she said, coming around behind him and looping her arms around his neck. And with a tiny jump, her legs were around him, his hands clasped under her knees. Sally Ann knew that Hasil was strong and that her daughter weighed next to nothing, so she watched in amusement while he rose to his feet, pretending to struggle, tilting and leaning this way and that, all, she knew, to make Lena laugh and feel a little more comfortable. 

And then he turned around towards her, their beautiful, giggling daughter on his back, a smile of such pure happiness on his face, and it was all she could do not to burst into tears in the middle of the aisle, surrounded by shelves of gardening supplies. But somehow, she bit her lips together and held it in, knowing that neither of them would really understand why she was crying. Because it wouldn’t just be for the last eight years, but for the last twenty eight, for all the days and weeks and months she was starved of love, the hunger so constant it was nearly forgotten. Growing up, she had prayed, closed her eyes in church and begged Jesus to send her the kind of family that would love her the way she so desperately wanted. After a while, she had started to wonder if anyone was listening. She had a daughter now, of course, that fierce mother’s love filling so much of her heart. But deep down, she knew she wanted more, that little missing piece at times catching her by surprise, as she glanced at the empty chairs across from her and Lena as they ate breakfast in the morning, as she left blank all the spaces labelled “Father” on school forms, as she lay alone in her bed on sleepless nights. 

So Sally Ann took a shaky breath and smiled back at them, and with a low wave of her hand gently urged Hasil to turn around and start walking down the aisle. And then she followed, picking up the half-full shopping basket as she went by. 

The three of them wandered the store for a while longer, picking up a handful of other items. Before taking anything, Hasil turned back to Lena, asking what she thought, sometimes offering her two options and asking her to pick. And each time, he nodded his approval, even though Sally Ann suspected he would be pleased no matter what she chose. Lena was animated, pointing out things on the shelves, even as her other arm remained tightly wrapped around him. Her cheeks were rounding with excitement, a familiar enough expression to Sally Ann, but one, she now saw, that was exactly mirrored in the face of the man who held her on his back. 

What was becoming clearer to her, as they went through the store, was that he wasn’t relying to Lena to know the difference between the merchandise she picked. His eyes were moving back and forth as he scanned the shelves, and she realized he was reading. It shouldn’t have surprised her – it had been eight years, after all – but still she was impressed, and then she wondered what else he might have learned to do in the time they were apart. 

He still had Lena in his arms by the time they reached the checkout counter, but her energy had faded, leaving her drooping and half-asleep against Hasil’s neck. The cashier – Jessie, her name tag read, in capital letters – gave them a polite, easy smile and one-by-one began to scan the items in their basket. 

Sally Ann couldn’t help but be struck by the surreal nature of it all: her and Hasil, standing in front of the same counter, the same place where he had asked her name and given her that carved bird. Part of her wondered if he was going to try to pay for everything with another wooden figure, but then, once the cashier said their total, he jerked his head down towards the side pocket of his pants.

“D’ya mind?” he asked with a grin, indicating with a small shrug that the child in his arms was making it impossible to do himself. 

“No, sir,” she replied, a mischievous smile emerging on her lips. Reaching down, she undid the button on the flap, and slid her fingers into his pocket, lingering perhaps a moment too long as they made contact with his leg. But quickly enough, she found a folded piece of paper and pulled it out, only to realize as she opened it that it was a blank check.  _Shay Mountain Trust_ , it read along the top left, the address of the lawyer’s office she had found him outside right below. How had he gotten access to a trust? What sort of business was he involved in?

She looked up at him, her face clouded with surprise and confusion. 

“‘S diff’rent, like I tol’ ya,” he offered. “We’s got money now.”

“How?” she asked.

“‘S a long story,” he replied. “But I’ll tell ya, I promise. For righ’ now, though… coul’ ya fill out tha’ paper for me? I’s a little occupied at th’ presen’.”

“Fine,” she said, taking a pen from the cashier and writing out the amount and the store’s name. For a moment, she thought that perhaps he had asked her to fill it out so that he didn’t have to admit that he didn’t know how to write, but then he awkwardly took the pen from her hand, his forearm keeping Lena’s leg in place, and leaned down to quickly mark his signature. It wasn’t particularly sophisticated, but it was legible, full of long, shaky letters, the H and the F marked boldly. 

“I thought it was policy to ask for two forms of ID for checks,” Sally Ann asked the cashier as she handed it over. She remembered the managers being strict about it – too many bad check writers out there, they had said – and while she didn’t mean to be difficult, none of this was making much sense to her at the moment.

“Uh… well…” the girl stammered. 

“Nah, they know me ‘ere,” Hasil said, jumping in. “Don’ need no ID.”

Sally Ann reached over and grabbed the plastic store bag full of their purchases, offering the cashier a tiny apologetic smile before the three of started walking towards the exit. 

“Do you even have ID?” she asked him as they walked outside.

“Aw, Sally Ann,” he said, shaking his head and smiling, “why ya gotta ask questions like tha’?”

He said it so sweetly, she couldn’t helped but be charmed. But regardless of all the new questions prompted by the transaction in the store, she realized that there was no denying who Hasil Farrell was on paper: unemployed, having probably never paid a dime in taxes, and no doubt driving without a license or insurance. But what was paper? Did it even matter? What was it to her heart? What was it to her daughter, who deserved a father? 

They made their way back to the truck and, after depositing a sleepy Lena in the middle of the seat, Hasil came back to the passenger door, unlocking it and opening it for her.

“Look, I gotta go back up t’night. They’s expectin’ me,” he said, leaning up against the side of the truck as she came around to the open door. “But firs’ thin’ t’morrow mornin’ I’m comin’ back down, okay? Ya’ll ain’t goin’ nowhere, right?”

Sally Ann took a step closer, wanting to reach out and touch him, but not knowing what effect that might have – on either of them. But there was real fear in his eyes, rooted, she knew, in the experience of loss. She had run before, and he had no guarantee she wouldn’t do it again. And this time, if she left, it wouldn’t just be her. But there were the things she didn’t want to tell him, that she had called Lena’s school and her office twice already with claims of the flu, and luckily tomorrow was Saturday, so she didn’t have to worry for another day or so, but Monday was coming, and with it the realities of their lives in Pittsburgh, far away from this town and the mountain.

“We’ll be here tomorrow,” she said, offering him a tiny nod, and then, as if compelled by forces stronger than her understanding, she stretched out her hand, cupping the side of his face, her thumb feather-light against his skin.

The only sound he offered was a heavy breath, and she watched as his eyes fluttered shut, his long lashes fanning down towards his cheeks. He pressed his face into her palm, letting it rest there, and that one gesture – so full of trust and pain and love – told her everything, his heart opening to her without saying a word. Who could blame her, then, as she moved even closer, her arms wrapping around his body and pulling him into her tight embrace?


	3. Chapter 3

It was dark by the time he got back; the hazy violet of twilight had faded slowly over the edge of the mountain as he drove the last hour or so, making the tiny forest paths near impossible to see. Normally, Hasil would have preferred to be back before evening, but given the choice between spending a little more time with Sally Ann and Lena and avoiding some hard driving, it hadn’t been a difficult decision to make. 

After parking the truck in its customary spot by the barn and throwing the keys on the seat, he grabbed the plastic bag out of the back and started making his way up the hill. There would be time later, he hoped, to give the bag to Krake, who would then distribute the provisions to those who requested them, but if not, he could always wait until morning. Everything – except what he had to do right now – could wait until morning. 

The generators were running in front of the house, lighting up a thin strand of bulbs above the porch roof and a few lamps inside. That was good, at least: it meant they hadn’t yet settled in for the night. 

He walked up the steps leading to the porch and made his way over to the front door. The only thing left to do now was take a deep breath, which he did, trying to think only about the positive outcomes of this conversation, and then he gave a quick pounding knock on the door. 

A few moments later it opened, and behind it stood Little Foster, whose size blocked out most of the soft interior light emerging onto the darkened porch.

“Cous’n,” he said, and then glanced down at the bag in Hasil’s hand. “How’d th’ trip go?”

“Fine,” Hasil replied without elaboration. “Look, I’s sorry ta intrude on ya’ll’s ev’ning, but I need a word wit’ th’ Bren’in.” 

“From th’ sound a’ it, seems like ya’ll need more than jus’ a word.” Little Foster sighed a little and then opened up the door widely, allowing Hasil to step inside. “She’s over by th’ fire.”

Hasil could feel the room growing progressively warmer as he made his way over towards the stone hearth; it was nice, after being in the cold, dark truck, after driving through the sharp autumn winds that frequently blew down off the top of the mountain. He caught sight of G’win in a nearby armchair, her son lounging peacefully in her lap. About ten feet away, Hasil stopped, bowing forward at the waist and pressing his fingers to his lips in the customary manner. She didn’t say anything at first, the light of the flames dancing along the side of her face, but then she roused her son, inching him off her lap and setting him gently on his feet.  

“Go see yer fa,” she said, and gave him a small push in the opposite direction.

“Bren’in,” Hasil said, not moving from where he stood. 

“Hasil,” she replied. “Som’thin’ happ’ned down there, didn’ it?”

He nodded, somehow unable to start speaking. He knew he would have to eventually, but there was some part of him that didn’t want to say it out loud, that wanted to keep the day’s revelations for himself and himself alone. 

“Som’thin’ wi’ th’ coal comp’ny? Or th’ police?”

“Nah,” he said. “‘S nothin’ ya’d think.”

“Sit,” she said, her open hand directing him towards the chair besides her. It was a bigger chair than hers, bigger than any Hasil might need, and he knew it had to be Little Foster’s. “Tell me.”

Hasil walked over and sat down, even though he mostly just perched on the edge of his seat. The chair was altogether too large to fully sink into, and regardless, he wasn’t in any kind of mood to relax. Instead, he planted his elbows on his knees and cast his gaze into the hypnotic movements of the fire. And then, after taking a moment to clear his throat, he began.

“Ya recall tha’ summer when Big Foster was...” He trailed off, not really wanting to finish that sentence, or think about a time when Big Foster had been much of anything. “An’ then three days ‘fore th’ storm, ya remember th’ girl I brough’ up here?”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” she murmured. “She ‘s a pretty girl, if I remember.”

“Yeah,” Hasil said, his lips curling slightly with the ghost of a smile. “An’ then she ran away, an’ I never saw ‘er again.”

“Prob’ly th’ only thin’ tha’ saved ya from th’ box,” G’win said, and he knew the truth of her statement. In all the chaos following the invasion and Big Foster’s death and the disappearance of Asa, no one had called him to account for having brought an outsider onto the mountain. In any other time, G’win would have been forced to settle on his punishment officially, and he no doubt would have spent several months out there by himself in the cold and the wet.

“I should’a been put in there,” he said, voicing a thought he had never shared with anyone before. Because he did deserve it. He deserved to be thrown in there for so many reasons: for disobeying the laws of his clan, for putting her in danger in the first place, for letting her go without truly telling her how he felt, for his complete and total failure to find her again. 

“Tha’ was a long time ago...”

“I know,” he said, even though thinking about it now – with everything that had happened today – made it suddenly seem like no time had passed at all. 

“Ya loved her,” G’win said. “Ya still love her.”

He turned and looked quickly at her, seeing the warmth of concern in her gaze. He sometimes forgot that G’win wasn’t just the Bren’in; she was a wife and a mother, and a woman who understood the ways of people.

“Why d’ya say tha’?” he asked. 

“I can see, Hasil. I got eyes.” She raised her brows a little and sighed. “An’ I think I know a li’l som’thin’ ‘bout pinin’... But wha’ happened t’day? Som’thin’ havin’ ta do wi’ this girl?”

“Yeah,” he replied, running his hand through his hair. “She came back. I saw ‘er.”

“Oh.”

“An’ she weren’t alone. She...” He paused, the words somehow stuck in his throat. “Well... she had my daughter wi’ ‘er.”

“Your daughter?” G’win asked, her mouth parted slightly in astonishment.

“Yeah,” he said. The room was so quiet for a moment, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire and a rough snap as a log burst in two.

“An’ ya’s certain she’s yours?” she asked.

He must have looked at her with an uncharacteristic level of anger, because she drew back a little, her eyes focused intently on the hand that was closest to his belt. It was only after a moment, when he looked down, that he realized he had the handle of his knife fully grasped in his palm. 

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he muttered, immediately releasing the knife. “Please, I didn’ mean nothin’... ‘S jus’, well, there ain’t no doubt on tha’ accoun’.” Because it was true: he knew without any hesitation that Lena was his. Sally Ann would never lie about something as important as that, and even so, he could see with his own eyes the similarities between Lena and himself. She favored her mother in that regard, but there was some of him there, too. And then there was the strongest proof of all, at least in his mind, which was based in his instinctual – and near instantaneous – desire to protect and care for her. He could never forget the trust she had placed in him when she climbed onto his back in the middle of the store, the warmth of her tiny body pressed against his, the sheer joy that flooded over his heart when he heard her laugh. Hasil knew how strong his instincts were, and they were telling him with utter certainty that this child belonged to him, just as he belonged to her. 

“Fine,” G’win replied, settling back into her chair. “‘S jus’... unmarried women, they don’ always know.”

He nodded, feeling some of the tension in the room dissipate. “I hear ya, G’win, but tha’ girl, she’s mine. I swear.”

“Alrigh’, then,” she said, taking a long and heavy breath. “So wha’ d’ya propose ta do?”

“Propose?” he repeated. “She’s a Farrell, part a’ th’ clan.”

“Tha’ may be,” she answered, “but she weren’t born on th’ mountain. An’ her ma certainly ain’t part a’ th’ clan.”

He could hear her words and knew them – on some level – to be true, but it didn’t stop the fierce, animalistic part of his heart from wanting to spring forward with bared teeth in their defense.

“Wha’ are ya sayin’, G’win?” he asked, his voice growing louder than it really ought to around the Bren’in. “Ya sayin’ they ain’t welcome?”

“Ya wan’ ‘em ta come up here?” she asked in confusion, tiny lines etching into her brow.

“Why not? My girl has cous’ns, a clan. Ya wan’ ‘er ta never know ‘er people?”

At this point, it seemed entirely impossible to stay seated; the room was too small, with too many walls narrowing in on him, and Hasil felt the biting urge to release some of the frustration he felt building in his body. He rose to his feet and paced over towards the hearth, distractedly tracing the edges of the rough stones with his fingertips.

“An’ wha’ ‘bout ‘her ma?” G’win asked from her chair. “She’ll let th’ girl come up on ‘er own?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. He stared down into the flames, feeling the rough blast of heat against his legs. “‘S gotta be both a’ ‘em. Sally Ann ain’t never gon’ let her come up here alone. Not after wha’ happened ta her tha’ summer…”

He didn’t have to say the rest: G’win had a good memory, and even though she rarely talked about it, Hasil knew she would have no trouble recalling the moment when Big Foster threatened his girl’s life, when she was brought to see all of them being held captive in the barn and no doubt recognized the fear written across Sally Ann’s face.

“Look,” she said, sighing, “th’ girl can come up… I don’ know ‘bout stayin’ for a long time, but she can come up for a li’l while. But as for her ma... Hasil, ya know th’ rules. Ther’ ain’t no outsiders allowed up here.”

“Ther’ ‘s gotta be some’thin’ ya can do, G’win,” he said, turning to face her. “You’re th’ Bren’in.”

“You’re right… I am th’ Bren’in. An’ tha’ means I gotta think a’ this whol’ mountain, I gotta think a’ all th’ clans, no’ jus’ one man. I know ya don’ like it, but these rules, they keep us safe an’ alive, an’ I can’ change ‘em jus’ for th’ sake a’ yer heart. Wha’ kind a’ Bren’in woul’ I be then?”

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a breath, and despite the warmth of the fire, felt a chill wash over his body. He hadn’t let himself imagine a scenario where the two of them would never get to come up the mountain, where Lena would never get the chance to know her kin.

“Then ther’ ‘s gotta be som’thin’  _I_  can do…” he said.

She shrugged her shoulders gently. “Ther’ ‘s only one thin’ I can think of... only one way ta override th’ law. Ya gotta call a circle. Th’ Elders migh’ give ya wha’ ya want… or they migh’ not.”

“Ya think they’d allow it?” he asked, daring to let himself hope a little.

“Ya never know,” G’win said. “They’s unpredict’ble on matters like these. But, Hasil…” She looked at him directly, her gaze turning hard. “If they say no, tha’s th’ end a’ it. Don’ be gettin’ any notions ‘bout bringin’ th’ two a’ ‘em up here in secret… ‘Cause if I find out ya did, ya ain’t gon’ go ta th’ box. Ya gon’ be banished from this mountain, an’ ya ain’t never comin’ back. Ya understand?”

“Yeah, alright,” he said, giving her a tiny nod. “I hear ya.”

He walked back to the empty chair and dropped down into it, suddenly filled with a tiredness that stretched all the way through his bones. He would sleep soundly tonight, and no doubt dream of them both.

“I’m goin’ back down t’morrow, G’win. An’ I ain’t askin’ permission. I’d like it, a’ course, but I ain’t gon’ ask for it.”

“An’ what, ya’d walk?” she asked, a tiny smile emerging on her lips.

“If I had ta,” he said, without hesitation.

She laughed, a little breathy thing. “Take th’ truck.”

Suddenly, there was a flurry of arms and legs and red hair as the youngest Foster Farrell scampered into the room and launched himself into his mother’s arms.

“Ma, ma, ‘s it true? Did fa kill a bear for ya?” he asked excitedly.

She looked down into her son’s eyes, and with a gentle hand pushed back the hair that fell over his brow. “Wha’d he say?” she asked.

“He said he did,” he answered, nodding wildly.

“Then it mus’ be true…” she said, her eyes still on her son, but somehow on something else, something unseen, while a strange, secret smile began to curl around the corner of her mouth. “Your fa’d never lie like tha’.” And then she wrapped her arms around the boy, pulling him against her, as she laid a tiny kiss on the top of his head.

Hasil knew it was time to go, his audience clearly over. There wasn’t much more they could talk about tonight, and now he had to consider his next steps. He would have to pay a visit on the Elders soon and hope and pray that their wisdom would allow them to see the rightness of his cause. And tomorrow, of course, he would see both of them again, and just the thought of that was more than enough to cause his heart to beat a little faster.

He stood up to take his leave, but before he could utter a word, she held out her hand, indicating that she had something else to say.

“Hasil,” she said, her arms still clasped around the child in her lap even as her sharp green eyes bore straight into his. “I gotta tell ya som’thin’ an’ ya ain’t gon’ like it… But ya need ta listen ta me.”

He nodded, and waited for her to continue.

“I had a man tha’ left me, gon’ for a lon’ time. An’ I pined som’thin’ awful. I tried ta keep goin’, but part a’ me was jus’ missin’ along wi’ ‘im. An’ then he came back, an’ I secretly hoped tha’ we could go back ta bein’ like we had been… But he had changed an’ I had changed, an’ it didn’ work out too good.” She glanced down absently at the floor, and then back up at him. “Ya jus’ gotta be careful, alright?”

“Alright,” Hasil said, not knowing what else to say that might properly acknowledge the weight of what she just told him. That was not a story, he sensed, that she had shared with many others. He wondered, in fact, if she had shared it with her husband. 

“An’ Hasil?” she added, with one last soft smile. “Congratulations.” 

He nodded and offered her a final bow, and then he turned, leaving the Bren’in in the company of her child.

Outside, the night air was cold and biting, even as the sky above was illuminated by the brilliant dusting of innumerable stars.


End file.
